


Family Over Time

by hullabalxo



Series: Seraverse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Parent John Winchester, Dean Winchester is an excellent parent, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Gen, John Winchester's Journal, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to My Other Works, Time Travel, season one, there are a lot of nephilim kids here and i'm not sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2020-04-06 02:32:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19053469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hullabalxo/pseuds/hullabalxo
Summary: sorry. sorry. please don't hate me? i hadn't opened the site in forever and hadn't realized people actually gave a shit about this. I promise to keep updates more frecuent.





	1. it's no big deal and other lies i tell myself

“Okay! That should do it. You ready?”

I nodded energetically, and my older sister smiled at me. Her puffy eyes and red-ish nose didn't fit with her whole “punk, leather-wearing badass" vibe, but her allergies always got the best of her.

As Theo started to pour the weird looking liquid into the bowl, she started to chant in Latin.

I focused on the date of my massive fuck up: Six days earlier, when I got involved in a fight with a man twice my size... And won. The sheriff had gained a big interest in my family after not finding a goddamn thing on the system, and she _somehow_ managed to connect us with a series of killings committed by leviathans decades ago... Things were not looking good for us.

I planned on fixing that.

Any kind of distractions could ruin the spell or worse, alter it.

And imagine my luck, when _two seconds_ before the chanting was over, an “ _ah-choo!_ ” reaches my ears.

Weird looking smoke surrounded me, blinding me for a moment. There was a shift in the floor where I was standing, which made me fall face down to the ground.

When the smoke dispersed, I found myself laying down on a road I didn’t recognize. Well, _shit._

As I got up, sobbing my elbows, I looked around. Not a thing around me seemed familiar. Maybe, if I was lucky, I had traveled exactly where -well, _when_ \- I wanted, but the sneeze had also added teleportation.

I was about to teleport back home, but I realized that I was running low on grace for some reason. Was enough for the teleportation to the bunker? Yes... but nothing else. If something went wrong (Like, for example, jumping further than I intended,) and the situation required using my powers, I couldn’t defend myself. And for some reason, I felt like something was going to go wrong. I’m not one to be paranoid, but something felt off. I had to choose: Find out where I was, or stay prepared for the answer.

I couldn't just waste whatever grace I had left, first off because I'm practically human right now and that's not something I'm used to, but also because grace multiplies itself, so the more I have, the quicker it'll recharge.

So instead of teleporting, I prayed.

_Dad, I need your help. Can you come?_

Nothing.

_I really, really could use your help right now._

Was I being ignored? But why?

I tried again, with Uncle Gabe, my cousins, and Aunt Sera, but I got absolute silence.

Sighing, I started to walk. I had to find a town eventually. Not sure what I’ll do when I reach one yet, but baby steps. First, find civilization, then figure out the rest.

While I walked, I did a quick inventory of what I had on me. My cellphone, an angel blade, my gun and a pack of mints; and inside my bag, a water bottle, my laptop, my sketchbook, dad’s journal, my wireless headphones ( _with_ the SD card, _thank God_ ) and some cash for emergencies. Like this one.

 _It could be worse,_  I told myself. I repeated it during the first fifteen minutes until the phrase completely lost any meaning, and I decided to sing instead.

 

_-oOo-_

 

“ _Where you gonna go? Where you gonna go? Where you gonna run to, When you get to the edge of the night? It’s time you face the sky, ohh- ohhh!_ ” I had no idea how long had I been singing. It was definitely over an hour.

Maybe.

Long enough for me to lose all inhibitions. Only two cars had passed, and both of them ignored me, and I had already emptied half the bottle. I had also decided what to do when I reached a town: find in a motel and focusing on recharging. According to my experience, it would take me a few days, two tops. But then again, the other times I had to recharge I was surrounded by grace. That, one way or another, sped up the process. And here... Well, here I was alone. _“Turn your face, to-...”_

“Hey!”

I turned around surprised. A car had stopped beside me and the girl riding shotgun was smiling at me. “Are you lost or something? Do you need help?”

“Hi! Yeah, I’m kinda lost. Can you direct me to the nearest town?”

The girl turned to see her companion, and after a silent conversation, she extended her arm, pointing towards where we were both going. “That way, it’s a twenty-minute ride, but- It’s kinda dangerous around here,” she added. I looked around: the sun hadn’t even started to go down yet. “We can take you if you want,” she offered.

I look at the couple. The guy’s smiling kindly and the girl seems cheerful and honest. But most importantly, if things went south, I could take them.

“That would be awesome, thank you.”

The girl opened the back door and I got in the car, not without taking a good look inside first.

Her skin is dark and her hair is a deep brown that shines with the sunlight. The guy is white, with pitch black hair. They both seem to be in their twenties, and I can’t help to notice the fraternity logo hanging from the rear-view mirror that confirms my theory. There’s another detail I can’t ignore: Her clothes seem old. Not in an _“I bought them twenty years ago and they're about to fall apart”_ way, but in a _“this girl took vintage way too literally”_ way. Her makeup seems old fashioned too. Please tell me this doesn’t mean what I think it means.

“I’m Taylor, and this is my boyfriend Steve.” Steve nodded his head, not moving his eyes from the road, “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too. I’m Mel.” She smiles and I returned the gesture before continuing, “What did you mean, _dangerous_?”

“Oh!” She looked at her boyfriend, kinda uncomfortable, but started explaining anyways: “A guy was murdered last week near here. They don’t know who did it, so-... yeah.”

“Oh, sorry for asking. You were friends?”

“He was in my fraternity, but I didn’t know him that well,” explained Steve. He didn’t seem very affected, to be honest.

“He was dating Lori, my roommate. Poor thing, she was there when it happened. I can’t imagine.”

“God, she must be heartbroken. Sorry I brought it up.”

“It’s fine, you didn’t know.” Smiled the girl.

“So... Where are you from, Mel?” Asked Steve, trying to make small talk.

“I grew up in Kansas,” I said truthfully, and then decided to come up with a lie: “When I graduated high school I decided to take a trip before entering college, as a sabbatical, y’know?”

“I wanted to take one of those,” commented Taylor, returning to her seat, “but my folks didn’t let me. They said it was a waste of time.”

“My dad was against it too,” I said, careful not to mention that I have two, “he completely freaked out when I told him.”

“Time travel? Why?” Dad’s eyes went to his husband’s, looking for his agreement.

“What do you mean, _why?_ ” I replied, “The Sheriff won't just drop this, and there's no way we can come up with a lie _that_ good. I could be back in half an hour tops and everything will be solved!”

"But it won’t, Mel,” he insisted, “because it never works like that. Not for people like us.”

“Oh my God, seriously? _People like us_? What’s that even supposed to mean? Dad,” I pleaded, looking at Cas, to make clear who I was talking to, “what about you?”

He sighed slowly and put his hand in Dad’s shoulder. “I think that’s a bad idea, Melissa.” Before I could reply, he explained, “Time travel is extremely complicated, not to mention dangerous. And all due respect, the Sheriff is not worth the risk.”

“I know that!” I whined, sounding way more childlike than I intended, “But it’s just a few days back, and I _could_ use the training.” Dad’s jaw tightened, and he shifted his body closer to Papa’s. He hated time travel, and that’s never been a secret.

“Listen, if you do decide to do it, I can’t stop you. But know that I’m against it.” I sighed, looking at my feet. I should have just jumped quietly, I realized. “I don’t want you time traveling for something so small, Mel. We'll find a way to solve this on our own, alright?”

“Yeah, I know how that is,” she joked.

  _I hardly doubt that,_ I thought.

 

_-oOo-_

 

“Thank you so much! You literally saved my life.”

Steve waved at me and I smiled at the couple as the car started and left me in front of the library. If I wasn’t sure that I had time traveled then, I was sure when I walked to the computers and I saw big white boxes I had only seen before in movies. _Jesus fuck_ , they had Windows XP.

I sat in one of the desks and moved the gray mouse until the screen lighted up: When it did, I gasped. _Loudly._

2006.

I was in _fucking 2006_. Oh, fuck, _oh fuck I messed up._ And _bad_. My dads must be freaking out.

My screech grabbed the attention of everyone near me- but there weren’t that many people around, so that was good.  

You know what they say: If you’re gonna fuck it up, you better fuck it up like a Winchester, right!?

And of course! No surprise I was so drained, I jumped over thirty years! Taking deep breaths, I refocused myself and got up from the desk. My eyes analyzed the place, and once I located the restrooms, I got inside one of them and locked the door.

Tired or not, I was going back home.

I closed my eyes and separated my feet a little, to help my balance. I focused on going home- _My_ home, the real one, with my dads and my sisters and all my crazy family.  

I opened my eyes.

I was still in the bathroom. Nothing had changed, except that the blood running from my nose was new.

“ _Shit!_ ” Okay, it’s too soon to panic yet. I’m tired. I have low grace. Once I recharge, I’ll try again. It’ll work.

It will work.

I unlocked the door after cleaning the blood -luckily it wasn’t much- and went back to what had been my original mission in the library: Finding my dad.

At the time being, it sounded like a great idea, but in sight of this new information - _I was in fucking 2006 for Heaven’s sake_ \- I started to reconsider. Was this really a good plan?

Finally taking a moment to think gave me the opportunity to also _feel_ the world around me. I was used to feeling my family’s grace all over the place _all the time,_ but now, the entire world felt cold. Empty. I had realized this, on the road. but I hadn’t been able to tell exactly what it was. Now, as I stopped consciously avoiding thinking about home, or getting home, or _how the fuck was I going to get home-_...

It made sense.

_I’m so fucked._

The more I thought about the situation, the more I realized how deep in shit I was. There were no angels on Earth, (well, there were a few: There was some kind of grace here, close, but I couldn’t figure out whose,) and that meant there hadn’t been in a very long time. Long enough for hunters to forget they ever existed.

So, showing up with Dad and Uncle Sam flashing my wings around wasn’t an option. Neither was telling them who I was:  There’s no way in freaking hell they’d believe me.

I need to put my shit in order. I am too tired to try and jump back again now, so I need a place to crash. That’s clear. Also, I need to figure out _where_ I am, so I can go home and, well, be at home. No, wait! They built the house after getting married. Home doesn’t exist yet, it’s just the bunker. Fuck. I have to read the journal and see how bad are things right now. Being alone could be dangerous.

I opened my journal and started to write down: _Find a motel, find out where I am, read the journal, try to communicate with dad_ \- no, wait, scratch that. _Find a way to communicate with dad,_ because it’s not like I can just text him. If I could get into the bunker I could leave a message, but... That definitely will suck me dry. I have to find another way. Also, I added, _“decide if go searching for dad or not”_ at the end of the list.

I erased the word “dad” and replaced it with “Dean”. I needed to get mentalized because if I _do_ find him, I can’t tell him who I really am.

Not for now, at least. I could prepare him for the news somehow. Get into his dreams or something.

...

_...Dear God I’m so stupid._

I need to find a motel, _now_. I can communicate with dad through dreams.

I shut the book closed and returned to the dinosaur in front of me, to do a quick search online.

Not much showed up, so I turned to hacking instead (Wherever you are, Charlie, bless your soul). The police records said that Dean Winchester was wanted for mail fraud, credit card fraud, grave desecration, impersonating an-... Well, you get the idea. But he was alive, which, considering the time being, was a lot. And so was Uncle Sam, and so was John Winchester.

I shut off the computer.

I’m gonna find a motel, and I’m gonna sleepwalk into the future. I’m gonna talk to dad, I’m gonna tell him I’m fine and I’m gonna return home.

Let’s just hope I find him sleeping.

 

_-oOo-_

 

Ankeny, Iowa. That was the name of the shitty town I had ended up in. Good news is, it’s pretty close to Kansas, so once I contact dad he could tell me where ( _when_ ) is the key to the bunker and I could find a way back on my own.

The sweet old lady I asked pointed me in the direction of the only motel in town, and according to her instructions, I still had to walk a few blocks s-... _holy flying motherfucking shit!_

I stood there, eyes wide open and completely frozen. I had to be seeing things.

The car that just passed in front of me, and now waited patiently for the traffic light to go green just feet away from where I was standing, _could not_ be the Impala. It could not.

Oh, _for fuck’s sake._ I could land literally anywhere on the globe, but where do I end up? In the same town as them. Typical. Because landing in a cute island in the Pacific is too much to ask for, apparently.

The newfound feeling of frustration didn’t make it to my face in time, because the guy riding shotgun (Sam?) saw me and frowned at my cathartic expression. And I, like the serious mature adult I am, started running.

“Hey, Dean,” called out Sam, grabbing his brother’s attention, “did you see that?”

“See what?” Replied Dean, still keeping an eye out for the red light.

“That girl, she-... She went pale and started running when she saw us.”

Dean looked at Sam, making sure he had heard it correctly. According to Sam’s _really_ confused face, he had.

“That’s weird. Did you recognize her?” The light turned green the second Dean stopped talking, but he didn’t start the car until Sam replied.

“No.” The car started again, to which Sam complained, “But what if _she_ did? What if she knows dad?”

Dean sighed. Sam was suddenly acting like he was the only one trying to find their father. Just _a month_ ago he didn’t want anything to do with the man and now...

“Listen, Sam-...”

“No, Dean, she could know something.”

“Or she could have remembered that she left the oven on.” He replied, sarcastic, “First we work the case and then we can go search your mystery girl, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

 

_-oOo-_

 

My hand was still shaking a little when I paid up front for the single room at the motel. It was on the second floor, so I had to ask for the one nearest the emergency stairs.

I shut the door behind me and threw the bag in the table. I was about to jump to the bed but I was received by a very weird looking stain.

 _Cleaning it wouldn’t consume much grace, right? Yeah, right._ I narrowed my eyes a little (not because I needed to, I was trained to do that- If I ever was in a hard situation, and the bad guys expect to be able to _see_ when I use my powers, I have an advantage,) and the sheets were pearly white again. I climbed lazily to the bed and let my head rest on the pillow.

 

_-oOo-_

 

It was very, _very_ naive of me to expect Dad to be asleep when I’m missing. He’s gonna sleep about three hours a day tops until he finds me, and there’s no way for me to guess _when._

I’m so, so, _so fucked._

I got a few hours of sleep, but I hadn’t been this tired in a while. I had walked into so many- really, _so many_ \- dreams, taken so many wrong turns, walked for _hours_ (let me remind you, time is slower in dreams) and gotten absolutely nothing. Nada. At all.

I walked into the bathroom and attempted to fix my hair a little. I also peed and washed my face, just to end up staring at my reflection in frustration. I couldn’t go back to sleep even if I tried, I hadn’t recharged shit with that nap, and it’s not like I could just sleep all day long until I’m able to find _anyone_ and tell them I’m fine.

I had to do something.

I opened the bag and got the journal out. I sat back in the bed and, sighing, started to look for the present date. I didn’t found today exactly, but two days from now.

Dad is here. They’re working a case in town- the guy I heard about. But there was another victim too-... Oh, shit. Taylor.

I gotta help her.


	2. if you're gonna fuck it up, you better fuck it up like a Winchester

Taylor had mentioned the Mass she was going to, and if I hurried I might be able to talk to her before it’s too late.

I ran through the streets of the city, my heart beating strongly on my throat and pumping adrenaline to every last corner of my body. This girl’s life was in my hands, and as hard as I was trying to think about the consequences of my actions, all I could think of was finding a way to stop this spirit before he could harm anyone else. My family included.

My family. The one that’s working this case too. 

That problem piled up with the detail of what am I gonna do to get Lori's necklace without giving her the "The Truth Is Out There" talk.

I finally reached the church. Damnit. For what I could see, the Mass was over. But there were still people around, so I still had a chance. 

I steadied my breathing -I had just sprinted seven blocks, after all- and using my enhanced senses I tried to locate Taylor.

*"Come on, Lori," I heard, and couldn't help but to sigh in relief, "I know this has been hard, but you are allowed to have fun." 

After hearing her voice, it wasn't hard to find them.

*"I’ll try." Taylor rolled her eyes, and then she hugged her friend. When they separated, Taylor started to walk in my direction. 

Our eyes met for a second and she recognized me instantly.

"Hey! Mel, right? What are you doing here?" I chuckled, looking at the floor. I _really_ hadn't planned this, at all. She didn't notice, luckily. "I didn't strike you as the religious type."

"I'm not, but I was trying to locate the reverend. You see, my dad..." A lie, Melissa, now! "...works for the health department, and he found a few files about some heirloom in this church that could be contaminated with I-don't-know-what..."

"Wait, really?" Okay, I could have come up with something better. Shit.

"It's not dangerous, don't worry. But it affects mostly kids and you know how they get when there are kids involved."

"Hold on, I thought you said you were on a sabbatical. And why isn't your dad here?" 

"I am!" Shit. "But dad, he... he got into an accident a town away, and he asked me to pick up the files and give them to the reverend, 'cause I was closer... It's super crazy, I know," I added, smiling. 

I felt bad about lying, but I'd rather lie than let her die. 

"I'm sorry about your dad, is he okay?"

"Yeah, they're keeping him in for observation, but he's fine."

Taylor nodded and I -internally- sighed in relief. She brought it. "Listen, I gotta get going, but," she turned around and pointed at the reverend, who had just spotted Lori, Sam, and Dean. Fuck me. "...There's the reverend. You can go talk to him."

"Thank you, Taylor. Really." She nodded and started to walk, waving. "Take care!"

I took another look at the boys. Incredibly, this lie would work. If he didn't fell for it, I could make a fake phone call, with my fake father, to confirm my fake story... _I think I'm starting to see a pattern here._ But I don't really have time for a psychoanalysis right now.

I started walking to the reverend, intersecting him before he could get to the group. 

Sam saw me, I’m sure. I could practically feet him. But I didn’t even look in his direction. If I saw them, I’m sure I would have a stroke.

Not like I _can_ have strokes, but, you know.

I tapped softly the reverend’s shoulder.

“Sir?”

The reverend turned around, curious, and analyzed me silently.

“Can I help you?”  

The judgy undertone in his voice made me realize I didn’t look ideal for this job. Downsides of working on the rush. At least I had my cross necklace with me... And my tattoos didn’t show. Those are _really_ hard to ignore.

“I sure hope so!” I grinned falsely. I didn’t look trustworthy enough for him, so my acting would have to eclipse that detail. “My name is Melissa,” I greeted, extending my hand. He took it and shook it, and I made an effort not to squeeze it too hard. I was trying to look innocent. Innocent girls don’t shake your hand firmly. “Do you have a moment?”

“Of course.” The reverend lead us both past the boys, but not before I could distinctly hear Sam muttering into Dean’s ear, _‘that’s the girl I told you about’_.  “What’s on your mind?”

“Well, it’s kind of a long story. You see, my dad works for the health department. He should be the one here telling you this, but he was involved in a car accident a few towns over.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, don’t worry. Thank God it wasn’t serious, but the doctors say he can leave the hospital yet. And this job had a due date, so as a favor he asked me to deliver these papers to you, sir.”

I put my hand inside my bag and materialized six pages confirming my story. He took them with a wary expression and started to read what seemed most important to get an idea of what I was talking about.

“Basically, it says that there has been evidence of a virus in this area that might be originally from here.” His eyes met mine, and I saw the honest concern in his expression. He might be a douchey-type, but he’s not an asshole. Good for him. “It’s nothing to worry about, really. To adults is basically harmless. But to babies, it can be dangerous.”

“How dangerous?”

“Again, nothing serious. It shows as the flu most of the time. They’ve known of this thing for a while now, apparently. But last month an anemic baby got it and the mom is suing, so we gotta make sure that there are no other sources of the virus around.”

“Was this nearby?”

“No, it was in Illinois, but the hospital records say that there have been four babies in this town with the flu recently and they’re obligated to investigate.”

“And you think the church is the source?”

“Well, it’s the most likely place. And it’s the only thing the babies had in common. You see, the virus normally is found on silver, especially old one-... I’m not sure of all the details, my father is way better at explaining this than me. I can give you his phone number if you’d like.”

“I would appreciate that, yes. But first, what do you need me to do?”

“I just need to check that the silver in here is safe, and if it isn’t, I need to take it to the office so they can disinfect it for you.”

“All the silver?”

I couldn’t help but to remember part of dad’s notes: Lori had gotten her necklace from her dad when she entered college.

“If we’re lucky, no; Have you touched or moved something made of silver that was stashed away recently?”

His face made the answer clear. “Yes, a few weeks ago.”

“That’s great news,” I smiled, “What was it? You could talk to my dad on the phone while I make the paperwork.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “But...”

“The cleaning won’t take more than two days, I promise. I’m supposed to leave you a document that says who I am, where I work, and which objects I took, with a picture of me to avoid identity theft.”

“Identity thief?” He repeated, horrified. Someone standing behind a bush near us got surprised by those words, and even if he was already spying on us, now he was way more interested.

“Yes, it happened twice so far. But they normally go for the more expensive stuff.”

“Dear God, this generation I swear...”

_Dude. Duuuude. Seriously? Blame it on the generation?_ “I know.” I smiled, as realistically as possible if you keep in mind I wanted to punch him in the nose.

“Let’s go inside, the phone’s there, and you can write your report in my office.”

“Thank you, sir.” We turned around- we had been walking very slowly around the block, but never getting away from the building- but instead of going straight to the church, he stopped by Lori and Sam, who were talking a few steps away from the last time I saw them. That meant dad- no, _Dean,_ was the one following me.

“Lori, sweetheart, can I take a look at your necklace for a moment?” 

Sam eyed me, untrusting, and halfway expecting me to give him any kind of attention. I didn’t. I stood a few steps away, pretending to check my nails.

“Of course, is there something wrong?” Asked the girl, as she took off the chain. I prayed that the ghost didn’t decide to make a cameo when it realized what was happening, and apparently, it was my lucky day.

“It’s complicated, I’ll tell you about it later, okay?”

“Okay, yeah.”

Lori gave the damned thing to the Reverend and he gave it to me.

“I give you my word, you’re gonna have it back before Wednesday, as if nothing happened.”

“I know. Let’s go to my office, shall we?”

“Absolutely.”

I felt Uncle Sam’s eyes staring at me the whole time I was walking into the church. Is it weird that suddenly I’m really glad I’m on his good side back home? ‘Cause it sure feels weird. 

 

_-oOo-_

 

“Catch fire, suckah!” I mocked, as I dropped the match dramatically and the necklace burned. The air was warm and smelled like wood, and the sun was going down slowly but surely. I stayed there for another moment, kinda expecting the ghost to put up some kind of fight. I was disappointed when it didn’t. 

“Wait, so _that’s it_?” I questioned, kneeling in front of the fire. I put it out easily (it was pretty small, after all) and grabbed the roasted silver from the can I had used, holding it with two fingers, “That’s seriously all you’ve got? _Really?_ You’re not even gonna try to stop me?” The chain didn’t even move for obvious reasons. I sighed deeply. “I guess that means you’re not done yet, huh? That’s just _fucking_ amazing.”

I got up and brushed off the dirt from my knees. I kicked the can (it was too hot to pick up) until it was out of sight and turned around to go back inside. I walked around one of the two cars in the parking lot as I went back to my room. Luckily for me, the parking lot was behind the building, and after it ended a huge wall stood, so nobody could see me talking to a necklace.

Except those _two morons did they really thought I couldn’t see them dear God-..!_

“You might not know this,” I said, loud and clear, “but spying on a girl behind a motel is _pretty_ shady,” I stopped on my tracks, halfway turning to look at them over my shoulder, “even if that girl is a hunter.” Not a word. “Nothing? Man, that’s sad,” I laughed, “but if that’s how you do it... I’m in room 2C if you decide that you _can_ talk.”

I couldn’t have taken more than four steps before I heard one of them running behind me. 

“Wait!”

I turned around again. Holy shit. HOLY SHIT. JESUS MOTHERFUCKING CHRIST.

Dad. 

Standing there.

I mean, not _dad_. 

But _this dad_. 

Kinda dad.

_ Younger.  _

My brain was not really processing what my eyes saw. He looked... _Young._ And like a freaking ken doll. 

Dean stopped when he saw my face. He looked over at Sam, who had run after him, and then back at me again. 

“Are you okay?” His voice was ridiculously different. Dear Chuck, give me strength.

“Holy...” I muttered. He frowned, confused, and I shook my head. Get it together, for fuck’s sake. “Who are you?”

“Why don’t we start with who are _you_?” 

Well, shit. Damn, Sammy, take it down a notch, would ya’?

I took my .45 out faster than I had ever done it before and aimed it at them. 

“I’d rather start with you, if you don’t mind,” I smiled, politely. Dean shot Sam a recriminating look, but remained silent. “Put your hands up and tell me your names,” I ordered, ginning. Dean tried to take a step towards me, but I unlocked the gun before he could, erasing the smile off my face. “Do it.”

Maybe I was being too harsh. But if I wasn’t going to tell them who I was, I had to act realistically. 

They did as I asked and Dean spoke. “My name’s Dean, and this is my brother Sam.”

“Why did you follow me?”

Dean sighed, and shot another annoyed look at Sam. This had been his idea, obviously.

“Sam here thought that you were involved in the case.” I nodded, and he continued, “Listen... We’re sorry, okay? We’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.”

I took a deep breath and put the gun back in my bag. The guys put their arms down cautiously. I had proven to be very volatile.

“My name’s Melissa. And as much as I’d love to play the helpless girl,” I sassed, “I got this.”

“So you don’t-..?”

“I thought I had him, I was wrong,” I stated, with a voice tone that screamed _‘duh’_ , “now I’m gonna go dig up a grave.” That only answered his half-question half ways, so I added, “You’re free to join me, if you want.”

They shared yet another look. I fought the urge to yell at them when they remained silent.

“8 pm, at the Old North Cemetery. Don’t be late.”

 

_-oOo-_

 

“What do you think?”

“I don’t trust her. I think she’s hiding something.” Dean nodded and closed the door of the Impala.

“I agree.” When Sam closed his door, Dean started the engine. There was something weird about that chick, and the fact that he couldn’t figure out what was starting to bother him. “That means we should leave her the case?”

“I’m thinking the opposite, actually.”

“Yeah, me too.”

 

_-oOo-_

 

“I get why you decided to go after the necklace first but...” 

“No, you don’t.” 

Dean sighed, tired and annoyed. I had taken the first round, and not only had I endured the toughest part of the digging, but I also had managed not to snap at their constant questioning. Dad and Uncle Sam did rock-paper-scissors to see which one was next, and Dad lost, as usual. So now I was sitting beside Sam, who was giving off some seriously bad vibes in my direction, while Dean dug a few feet below us.

Dad put the shovel down, looked at Sam and then looked at me. And then Sam was also looking at me. Shit. 

An ambush.

“Listen, Melissa. We usually don’t team up with other hunters,” Sam said, “but when you work a case with someone, at least you should keep them informed.”

Dean raised his eyebrows in agreement. 

“And we’re not asking for much, either. Just, you know...” Sam continued. They did that little eye-looking thing they do when they try to look intimidatingly synchronized, and I seriously considered dropping everything and start running. “The basics.”

I remembered an advice Uncle Sam gave me once. A mantra: Accept, Adapt, Act.

“ _Fine,_ ” I said, annoyed. “The main clues about the victim were the whole ‘hook man’ thing, and Lori. So I did some research about the legend, and one of the several versions mentioned a priest, like Lori’s dad _happens_ to be.

I don't believe in coincidences, so I looked through the church records. There were several murderers there, the first of them being this fine gentleman,” I motioned to the grave, as Dean nodded, “Who was also a fan of killing people with hooks. I would’ve thought he was haunting the scene of his crime, but the other murders mentioned in the church records had happened in different places which meant that he moved around, so I just assumed that he was connected to something else.”

Dad was about to be satisfied with my answer, but Sam interrupted him.

“How did you know the hook wasn’t in the corpse?”

“In the old days, they wouldn’t bury anyone with anything the dead could use to crawl back to the world of the living. It was obvious.”

“Oh. Smart.”

“Well, but-...”

“Dear God!” I snapped, “You don’t like me _one_ bit, huh?”

Dad picked up the shovel and continued to dig in silence. Sam remained silent for a moment too, but it didn’t last long. Even with Dean practically shouting him not to with his eyes, he insisted with his question.

“How did you figure out it was the necklace?”

“Well, Lori wasn’t carrying around a silver hook, so that lowered the options.”

Is incredible how many lies you _don’t_ have to come up with if you have proper usage of sarcasm. Not even Uncle Sam realized my answer didn’t make any sense.

“And there we go!” Exclaimed Dean, leaving the shovel aside. He opened the grave as the putrid smell flooded the air. “Ugh- Sam, hand me the salt, would you?”

Sam did as he was told and soon enough the grave was completely covered in salt. 

But as soon as I opened the lighter fluid bottle, the spirit of Jacob Karns appeared in front of me and threw me backward against one of the tombstones.

“Melissa!” Screamed my father. I heard the _crack_ of my bones against the stone and I couldn’t help the cry of pain. The bottle of lighter had landed a few feet away from me, and ignoring the pain I started crawling towards it, earning a pretty surprised look from Dean.

Since the ghost had assumed I was no longer a threat, he went after Sam. He grabbed the salt and threw it in its general direction, but the ghost appeared behind him and hooked him in the shoulder.

“Sam!” I screamed, as he grunted in pain and fell to the floor. Shit. Shit! “Come pick on someone your own size, you Poltergeist wannabe!”

The ghost turned his attention to me right before he could take another swing at Sam, and as I started to get back on my feet Dean shot him and he vanished. Dad turned to Sam instantly.

“Sam!? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, as Dean helped him back on his feet. Looking at me, he added, “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” Sam picked up the lighter fluid and ran to the open grave, quickly wetting the entire thing.

“You okay? That sounded bad,” asked Dean, taking a quick look at my back before returning his attention to our surroundings. The ghost was coming back anytime soon.

“I’ve had it worse. I’ll live.”

“Okay, tha-- Drop!” 

I did as ordered, landing on my stomach, and Dean vanished the ghost for the second time. This time it reappeared faster, but before I could do anything, his hook started to melt, quickly followed by the rest of his body.

In a burst of flames, the spirit disappeared. For good this time.

“Is everyone okay?” I ask out of habit, rolling in the floor to end up facing the night sky. 

“Yeah.” The usual satisfaction of a job well done starts to flood my chest. Maybe that’s the reason why suddenly, all the stars seem brighter than ever. “Sam?”

“I’m... not so sure.” A frown reaches my face sooner than I can try to stop it. “I think I might need stitches.”

I don’t remember that being in the journal.

God, I fucked up.


	3. liar, liar, everything's on fire

Sam’s shoulder only needed three stitches, but it was still too many. This hadn’t happened like this when I wasn’t here.

That wasn’t completely bad: According to dad’s journal, I saved a life today. Right about now, Taylor would have been found dead in her bed. Instead of that, I’m making a fast breakfast for three.

After deciding a hospital was too much risk and not worth it, we ended up in my motel room with a cheap sewing kit. Once he was ready, I offered them to stay with me to avoid grabbing unnecessary attention. Sam got the bed because he was hurt, I slept in the couch, and Dean stayed in the Impala.

Of course, it’s not like I needed that much sleep. That I got from Cas.

Neither do I need the eggs and bacon, but I guess it’s stronger than me. I need to stick to my routine somehow, or I’ll go crazy.

“Mel?”

“Oh! Hey, Sam.” I smiled, not taking my eyes off the frying pan.

“You're making breakfast?” He was tired, you could hear it in his voice. Not the _serious_ tired I heard every once in a while (every time the world has an expiration date, for example), but a sleepy kind of tired, that made me want to tell him to go back to bed for a few hours.

“Yes, sire. You aren't vegetarian, right?” I asked, knowing the answer, “I'm making eggs and bacon.”

“No, I'm not.”

“Good. I already took a shower, and it's not _the worst_ , so go ahead if you feel like it. The water pressure sucks, though, so don’t get too excited.”

I know that this is a big change from the attitude we had yesterday. Well, at least the one I had.

But like it or not, I don’t know how long will I be here. And that kid right there, is my family.

“Is Dean up yet?”

“I haven't seen him, so I'd say no.”

And I _need_ my family.

“Okay...” I heard him put his feet on the ground, slowly. I was almost done, so if I wanted to get a moment with him alone now was the time.

“How's the shoulder? Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah. Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“It's no problem,” I smiled. He didn't move, so I assume that he knew I wanted to talk to him. “Sam, I'm sorry-...”

“No, I'm the one who's sorry. I treated you like shit, and you still put yourself in danger to help me.”

“Maybe, but I'm not making it any easier. In this life, you can't run around blindly trusting everyone...” I felt his eyes on me as I took the plates and placed them on the tiny table. I turned to face him with my arms awkwardly still on my sides, immediately wishing I had something else to do to keep my body busy, as opposed to standing there, talking. “My point is; I shouldn't have expected you to do something that I don't do myself.”

He nodded, a little pout on his lips.

“So we're good?”

“We're good,” I assured. With that out of the way, my chest felt infinitely lighter. I put on my coat and headed to the door. “I'm gonna get Dean.”

“Okay. Do you mind if I take that shower?”

“Go right ahead.”

 

_-oOo-_

 

“It’s good,” said Dean approvingly, analyzing the motel room. “Real good. Where'd you learn to cook like this?”

“My dad taught me.” I nearly had to bite the inside of my cheek from the irony. “But it's really not _that_ complicated.”

“Maybe not in regular circumstances, but you made this in a motel room, from scratch. That takes talent.”

“Well, thank you.”

I was not going to shy away from a compliment, that was for sure. Sam was still in the shower, so it was just the two of us, sitting in the table and eating breakfast.

It reminded me of home.

“So, Mel...” He started. When I looked up to see him, he added immediately: “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want, of course, but... What are you gonna do now?”

“I... I haven’t thought of it yet,” I said. And it was true. The original plan was now obsolete, which meant I needed a new one. However, the goal remained: “I’m trying to go back home.”

“Maybe we can drop you when we leave town, where do you live?”

_Unless Baby was the car from Back to the Future, I doubt you can._

I laughed, earning a frown. “It’s gonna be harder than that.”

“What do you mean?”

What was I supposed to say? _“Well, my dear, I come from the future, because I’m half angel and therefore time travel is not something too far from my reality”_? Yeah, I don’t think so.

“This isn’t what you want to hear, but I can’t tell you.”

“That’s fair, I guess,” he sighed. I couldn’t help but wonder, looking at him, if he was this trusting with everyone or it was just me. If it wasn’t just me, then I’m not surprised they died so often back then- back _now_. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Luckily for you, I don’t think so.” He frowned again. I _really_ need to stop being so goddamn mysterious all the time. “What about you?” I asked, trying to get the subject away from me for a while, “What’s next for you two?”

“Just keep working cases, until...”

“Until..?”

“Until we find our father.”

“He’s missing?” I ask, faking empathy. Don’t get me wrong, I feel terrible for him. Honestly awful. But John Winchester can die in a pit for all I care.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

 _Why am I telling her this!?_ Dean asked himself, biting softly his tongue. I mean, she saved Sam even when she could have a broken everything, but still...

Talk about oversharing.

For some reason, though, talking to Melissa felt natural. And not because she was exactly trustworthy. The girl had more secrets than Victoria. But it felt safe. Something in his gut was really okay with pouring his soul out to her, even when he knew he shouldn’t.

“How’s your back? You got hit pretty hard.” He asked me, and I nearly drop my fork. Son of a bitch, I had completely forgotten about that. “I’m honestly surprised you can even walk right now.”

Angelic Healing Powers: Easy to forget, hard to ignore.

“It’s fine, don’t worry.”

Dean frowned, surprised. _“Fine?”_ He repeated, “I heard that crack. That can’t be ‘fine’.”

God-fucking-damnit, dad.

“I know what you mean, but that wasn’t me. I had my camera with me,” I lied blatantly, “that asshole destroyed it.”

There was no way, no way in fucking _hell_ he’d believe that. But his doubt was not something I could afford at the time being.

 _I’m sorry, daddy,_ I thought before using my powers to affect his thoughts. His mind resisted at first, but I managed to skip past his defenses and fill it with trust and acceptance.

“That sucks... So you’re not in pain then?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” God, that felt _wrong._

I mean, of course it’s not the first time I’ve lied to my dad. I’m almost twenty-one years old, I couldn’t have made it without a few lies here and there.

I had been in situations, where I needed to be focused on the task at hand, and I had to put my feelings aside. Those times, I knew I could talk about it when it was over. But now it was over, and I still couldn’t talk about it.

I had never before told him I was fine when I was not. That’s not something we do. It’s not our nature.

Sam left the bathroom with his hair still dripping water. He smiled at his brother before yawning.

“Morning, Dean.”

Dean, with his mouth full, smiled back. “Morning, sunshine.”

“Dude, gross,” I whined, rolling my eyes. I left the chair and offered it to Sam since he hadn’t had any breakfast yet.

I grabbed my bag and took it with me back to the tiny sofa. I had to keep an eye out for the guys, cause even if this journal was way older than the one I had gotten a peek of last night, it was still the same rusty leather case, filled with the same handwritten notes.

I sat down and started turning pages. My fingers were kinda shaky when I finally reached the page I was looking for. Obituaries.

As my eyes traveled the text, I realized: Most of these people I met in Heaven. That means, after they died. Which means, _obviously,_ that they don’t know me, and that I don’t know anything about them that could make them trust me. A huge detail that had just flown above my head.

God, this plan was getting harder by the second.

I analyzed my options: Some of the people here were too young at the moment. Aunt Claire, for example, must be about three years old. Now, I’m sure she’s the most badass three-year-old _ever_ , but I need someone that knows what’s going down in the world right now. And can spell their own name.

Also, meeting Jimmy Novak would kill me. If not, I’d get pretty close.

I mentally scratched off all the people that were too young or too dead (That’s Nan Mary, basically,) and then all the people that hadn’t been in touch with the supernatural so far. No need to drag them into this sooner than necessary. Especially, if things are nearly as fucked up as they seem.

If my options were low _then.._.

Grandpa Bobby could help me. But he’s pretty paranoid, so maybe I should save him as a backup plan. Pamela maybe..? But she doesn't know the boys yet, so that will _definitely_ change history. Speaking of changing history, Aunt Sera would be perfect for this, y’kow, being the angel of destiny and all. But she isn’t answering me. Neither are Uncle Gabe or Grandpa Chuck. Nor any of the other angels.

Papa mentions how different things were before he met dad, so maybe this is what he was talking about.

God, this time sucks. Next in the list is Grunkle Crowley... But something tells me he’s still on the dark side- Wait, that’s it! Fuck yeah, I’m a freaking genius!

There’s plenty of demons out there that know what’s going on. I just have to find one and...

“Did you find what you were looking for, Einstein?”

I looked up, confused. “What?”

“ _Something something, ‘I’m a freaking genius’,_ ” Dean imitated, smirking.

Fuck.

“Oh, sorry. I just figured out what to do next.” Dean nodded, slowly. He was almost disappointed, for what I could sense.

Who knows, maybe he’s meant to like me regardless of time and space.

Speaking of time and space, interrogating a demon is going to be significantly easier if I’m on my own. Leaving them didn’t sound as relieving as it should, but I tried not to think about it too much.

“That’s great, but... Maybe you should take it easy,” suggested Sam, trying not to overstep my boundaries. After all, we’ve only been friends for about fifteen minutes. “Take some time to heal, get some real sleep...” I opened my mouth to argue, but he didn’t let me get even one word out. “I heard you last night. Every time I woke up, you were up.”

I didn’t realize he had woken up. Well... As focused as I was in trying to jump back, he probably could have danced the Gangnam style on the table and I wouldn’t have noticed.

And then, once I had given up on trying, I started to pray as hard as I could. If it were up to me, I would have teleported to every hiding spot I know of on Earth until I found somebody, but I’m trying to save grace here. Which means, no flying. Also, because if angels are as big pieces of shit as dad made it sound (and he did _not_ spare any details) they will very likely try to kill me. So, between the desperate praying, I also managed to make a hiding hex pack that now hangs from my neck under my clothes.

I also need to stop by a tattoo shop to get a few more sigils, just to be sure, but that can wait.

“That’s true,” I said, making an effort to keep it from sounding like a confession, “but look at me. Do I look tired?” They both shook their heads. “See? I slept all I needed, I promise.”

“How much is that again?” Insisted Dean, in the voice tone that dad uses when he’s not buying my bullshit. When that thought went through my head, I had chills. It’s hard to realize since his voice now is so different from his real voice, but their way of speaking his almost the same. Almost.

“Four hours,” I lied. It was actually two. “It’s genetical. I’m fine.”

They shared a look, and I swear to God I wanted to scream. No, that's not true. I wanted to tell them. I wanted to tell them the truth really really bad.

I wanted to say, _‘Actually, is because I’m a Nephilim. One of my fathers is an angel of the lord, and I got it from him. That’s also why a broken neck did nothing to me. Cause, yeah, I broke my neck last night. No big deal, though. It happens often. And that’s something you both know because you are my father and you are therefore my uncle. No, you’re not an angel. You married an angel. Who’s in the vessel of a man. Which means you’re bi, by the way. Congratulations. And yes, that’s possible, because I also came from the future. That’s how I solved the case so fast. Surprise!’_

“Okay, I guess,” Dean sighed, as Sam returned to his food, “Where are you headed?”

“Not really sure...” I replied. “Nowhere specific.”

“Do you have a car?” Asked Sam.

“...I can find one.”

“You mean steal one?” He replied.

“Not necessarily. If I can get enough money fast enough, I could buy one.”

“What do you do?”

I closed the journal and put it back in the bag. Dean was done with his breakfast and he could get up at any minute.

“You mean like, my day job?” I asked. “Back home I worked at a bookstore. Not really the greatest paycheck, but I liked the place. Now I guess I’ll improvise.”

“Which means..?” Insisted Dean.

“Which means, _I’ll improvise,”_ I repeated, “There’s a city nearby, Des Moines. I bet I can...”

“Why don’t you tag along?” Both me and Sam snapped our necks to stare at him. Then we looked at each other, and then back at him again. “What?”

“I think you two should talk about it first...” I trailed off, looking at Sam.

“Oh, no,” Sam said, when he realized what I meant, “I don’t have a problem, it just... Caught me off guard, I guess.”

Dean frowned, his eyes traveling between me and his brother. I wish I could hear what he was thinking because his expression was unreadable.

“Well, Sam’s okay with it,” Dean pointed out, “it’s up to you to... _y’know_ , choose.”

I stopped to think for a second. I _knew_ how to steal a car, but I’d never done it before. I just hadn’t needed the skill. Neither had I needed to scam anyone, but that’s one I had practiced with dad. Theoretically, I could do it.

In the practice, however... “I guess it’d be great to have company.”

“Great!” replied Dean, victorious, “When do we hit the road?”


	4. there's a reason there are so many movies about roadtrips

We left town a few hours later, after Sam found a case in Jefferson City, Missouri. I new that it would turn out to be nothing, but I didn’t want to interfere with the past any more than necessary. So, after four and a half hours of driving -not counting the stop we made to get lunch- we arrived in the city.

The trip had been fairly short, and the last part of it I had spent sleeping in the back of the Impala, but while I was up, things went smoothly between the guys and me.

Dean and I agreed in everything when it came to music (he taught me everything I know, so it’s not a surprise), and I let Sam borrow my headphones so he wouldn’t have to listen to us ranting. The conversation moved on to Baby, and eventually _my_ Baby, the motorcycle I got for my 16th birthday, and then Sam took off the headphones and joined us until I fell asleep.

The timing for that nap couldn't have been more perfect, because it showed that I trusted them enough to let my guard down with them, but it didn’t seem like something planned or too obvious.

Also, I was tired as shit of biting my tongue and stopping myself mid-sentence before saying anything that would make them suspicious. Lying was exhausting, and having to be alert at all times not to put myself in evidence was slowly driving me crazy.

 

_-oOo-_

 

“Dude, I can’t believe it turned out to be nothing. I mean...”

“Sam, it’s cool.” My shoulder poked his arm playfully, trying to cheer him up. He smiled softly at my gesture before opening his door. “It happens to everyone. And, look on the bright side!” I smiled, getting in the backseat. Dean stared at me through the rearview mirror with interest. “You have more time to let those stitches heal. It’s a win if you ask me.”

“Listen to the lady, Sam,” said my father, starting the engine, “and you know, since we’re already here... How about we make a quick stop at a bar or something?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Mel? What about you?”

“I like the idea but, FYI, I’m twenty.” Their eyes shot open for a nanosecond before they could hide their surprise. “I have a fake ID and all, but I’m not drinking.”

“That’s great,” replied Sam, “at least _one_ of you won’t have a hangover tomorrow,” he added.

I wouldn’t exactly mind if _my_ Uncle Sam was this sassy. I mean, he’s married to Gabriel, which practically forces him to be witty- but _this_ level of sass I hadn’t seen in him before. And I am _living_ for it.

Sam stayed in the car while we went inside the bar. I left him my headphones again, with the condition not to make any questions about the music, and wished that he didn't realize how suspicious that was. Dean suggested we hustled pool later and headed to the bar to get some drinks.

I got a Coke and he had a beer.

We played against two rich bro-dudes that seemed way out of place in a bar full of motorcyclists, and made a stack of cash that we decided to split 50-50 before heading back to Sam, who was sitting on the hood of the Impala.

When he saw us, he put down the newspaper and frowned. It was dark outside, and there were a bunch of men with their bikes minding their own business all over the place.

“You two were..? I thought you were _getting drunk,_ not-!” His voice stopped suddenly and got replaced by an annoyed sigh. *“We could get day jobs every once in a while, you know?”

Dean raised his eyebrows. For a split second, he seemed under attack. Immediately after, a playful smile settled on his face.

*“Hunting is our day job!” Replied Dean. He sounded completely normal. “And the pay is crap.”

*”Yeah, but hustling pool? Credit card scams?” His face said everything his tone could have skipped. “It's not the most honest thing in the world, guys.”

Dean looks at me for a second, like expecting me to react. I don’t, because I agree with him. To a degree, at least.

*“Well,” Dean replies, after realizing I don’t intend to do it, “let's see honest.” He holds out one hand, like weighing his options, “...Fun and easy.” The other hand (the one holding the stack of cash) joins the first one, and ‘fun and easy’ outweighs ‘honest’. “It's no contest. Besides, we're good at it.” He adds, a small gesture of his head making clear he’s talking about him and Sam. “It's what we were raised to do.”

Sam smiles but there’s not a trace of happiness in the gesture.

*“Yeah, well, how we were raised was jacked.” Dean starts counting the money, and I know that he’s just trying to avoid looking at his brother. I don't even react to that, even when a little bit of guilt mixed with embarrassment flashes through his face, as his eyes stop on my face for a millisecond. When he didn't saw any type of reaction, he relaxed.

*“Yeah, says you,” Dean says, not looking up. Now that I can't ignore. I know Dad used to be super submissive to John, who used that for his crazy revenge plan, but I didn't, and I still don't, know much about Dean's relationship with his father. I've met him and I've seen the two of them together, but I also knew things here are not like I remember them. I knew because Dad always made sure I knew I wasn't a soldier.

He taught me to think for myself and to ask for help when needed without feeling embarrassed of it, and he also taught me that asking him or dad for permission should be something done out of respect for their opinion and not out of fear.

On my sixteenth birthday, he sat with me in my bed before kissing me goodnight, and explained that I didn't owe him or anyone an explanation for my actions anymore, nor to follow any orders, except for the times I wanted to. _‘It’s time for you to make your own mistakes,’_ he said.

It's incredible how, after about one week of doing whatever stupid shit I wanted, I came home one night in time for dinner and asked, _'I know I don't_ have _to ask, but still... Can I go to the movies tomorrow with Allie?’_

Dad looked over to Papa, who was frowning, and then replied, _'I’d rather you stayed home,’_ I nodded in silence and he explained, _‘it's school night and I don't wanna have to drag you out of bed in the morning.’_

_‘Well, how about Friday night?’_

After confirming with Papa with his eyes, he smiled, _'Sounds good to me.’_

_‘Cool. Thanks, dad.’_

_'No problem.’_

*“We got a new gig or what?”

*“Maybe.” Sam stands up, reading from the article: “Oasis Plains, Oklahoma - not far from here. A gas company employee, Dustin Burwash, supposedly died from Creutzfeldt-Jakob.”

*“Huh?”

“Mad cow disease?” I asked, speaking over Dean accidentally.

“Yeah.”

“Mad cow,” Repeated Dean, remembering something suddenly, *“wasn't that on Oprah?”

Sam stares at him blankly for a second before asking, the shock clear in his voice, *“You watch Oprah?”

“You _don’t_ watch Oprah?” I clap back, feeling that Dean’s too embarrassed to reply.

Dean smiles relieved, but Sam doesn't see it, too busy shaking his head.

*“So this guy eats a bad burger, why do we care?”

*“Mad cow disease causes massive brain degeneration. It takes months, even years, for the damage to appear. But this guy, Dustin? Sounds like his brain disintegrated in about an hour. Maybe less.”

*”Okay, that's weird.”

“Sounds like _our_ type of thing, right?” I ask.

*”Yeah. Now, it could be a disease,” Sam says, making a pause for suspense, “...Or it could be somethin' much nastier.”

*”All right. Oklahoma.” Dean gets inside the car and Sam and I follow him. I thought about trying to sleepwalk again, but it always drained me and I hadn't made any progress with that, so I shook the idea off. “Man. Work, work, work. No time to spend my money.”

I accommodated myself against the left door and closed my eyes, as Dean started the car.

_Let's find some demons._

 

_-oOo-_

 

When I woke up, it was total and utter darkness outside the car. And I was alone.

Shit. Maybe I was still asleep? No, impossible. I look around, and after forcing my vision I see Sam outside, leaning against the back of Impala. Dean is nowhere to be found.

Seeing he's deep in thought, I fake a loud yawn to let him know I'm awake. He turns his head and under the light of the moon I can see that his eyes are crystallized, and he's holding something in his hands.

He quickly puts it away, but not fast enough for me not to recognize it as a photo. I take my time crawling out of the car, so he has enough time to dry the tears that stain his face.

Once I'm out, he's fake smiling at me.

“You're up,” he noticed, “we ran out of gas, so Dean went to a gas station we saw a few miles behind, he shouldn't be long now.”

I nod at the little rant, not mirroring his _'everything’s cool’_ expression.

“Aha. Do you wanna talk about it?”

He frowns immediately, still not wiping the smile off. “About what?”

I sigh and look down for a second. This feels so weird.

“If you don't want to talk, I'll respect that, but I will not pretend that you're fine.” Both the smile and the frown disappear and he just stares at me for a few seconds. Then, he pulls out the picture.

“...Her name was Jess.” _Oh God. Jess, as in, my cousin, Jess? This is the girl who she's named after?_ He hands me the photo and I can see him, hugging a blonde girl, both of them with wide smiles on their faces. He must be heartbroken.

“She was gorgeous.”

“She was,” Sam agreed. His eyes were filled with tears again.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” I ask, carefully. He drops his head a little and puts the photo back in his jacket inside pocket.

“Something killed her, I don't know what.” The words came out low, and filled with so many emotions that I could feel his pain.

 _Literally._ Damned angelic powers.

“How long's it been?” He didn't reply, but I didn't take it personally. He wasn't even looking at me, and I wouldn't be surprised if hadn't even heard it. I took a step closer and extended my arms, inviting him.

After one second of consideration, he erased the space between us and held me against his chest. He was almost taller than me, but I still managed to put my arms above his, in an effort to make him feel protected.

I don't know how long we hugged, because Sam was afraid at the beginning to really hold me, but then he gave in and nearly crushed me. To be fair, I was using the same strength on him, so it was even.

“I know it doesn't feel like it, but you're gonna be alright,” I whispered in instinct when I heard him sob a little, and it wasn't long after that he split the hug up.

“Thank you.”

“It's no problem,” I assured, smiling sadly. “If you don't wanna talk to me it's fine, but you gotta talk to someone. Trust me, it won't end well if you don't.” He nodded in silence. “I'm gonna go inside and put on my headphones. Come whenever you're ready, okay? The cold is gonna make you sick.”

I didn't have to wait for an answer, so I climbed back into the car quickly, embracing the warmness inside it with open arms.

But when I reached over to Sam's seat to grab the headphones, the radio turned on and started playing static.

I step back and put my feet firmly on the floor, ready to fight back any possible attack. I was about to call Sam's name, but the static started to turn into voices.

Voices I knew well.

“Are you _sur-..._ Gonna work?” That was Dad. Oh God, that was _Dad._ I could barely make out the words from all the noise, but after missing at least two entire phrases, the sound became clearer all of a sudden. “Listen, _Mel-...a,_ I don't know how is this message going to get to you. I don't even _know_ if it's gonna get to-... ut if you're hearing this, pay att-... ion: We found you.”

“Oh my God,” I whimpered. I would have felt embarrassed by the sound, so unlike me, but they knew where I was. They'd found me.

“We-... Listen, I don't have much time-...”

“Melissa,” interrupted another voice. Papa. “There's something blocking us from getting to you. We are guessing it's the same thing that's keeping you there. Go to the bunker. We _lef-..._ ckage there, and a letter explaining everything, alright?”

“We will figure _th-..._ Out,” Dad assured. The static was becoming louder and louder, and my ears were starting to hurt. How was Sam not hearing all of this? “Once you get there, leave a letter for us. We can commun _i-... ate-..._ Okay?”

“Mel... You have to be careful, the year _yo-..._ In it's very dangerous, and _y-..._ not safe on your own. We need you safe.”

“We love you. We're proud of you.”

 _“Com-... ack_ to us, sweetheart.”

A tear fell down my cheek and the voices died, all the noise being static for two seconds before the radio went off.

_I’m going home._

Someone knocked on the car's window and when I turn I see Dean, frowning in confusion.

When he's sure that I've seen him, he opens the driver's door.

“You okay?”

“I have to leave.”

“Wait, what?” He frowned deeply, and the expression lines felt way too familiar. I realized that I must have sounded completely crazy, wanting to walk away in the middle of the night with no explanation.

Sam entered the car and settled on his seat, looking way more pulled together than he had when I woke up. The confusion was also visible on his face.

“I... I had a change of plans. I need to go somewhere and...”

“And you're just gonna leave in the middle of the night?” Dean questioned, incredulous. He climbed in the seat facing me and closed the door behind him. Thank God, because the cold air was giving me goosebumps all over my arms.

“I know it sounds crazy. I know. But m-...” Should I tell them? Papa said they couldn't get to me, so I was still stuck here. But the excitement made me numb to possible consequences. “My family sent me a message. I know what I have to do now.”

“We'll go with you,” stated Dean, “you're not leaving alone.”

Sam nodded, agreeing fully with his brother for the first time in what it felt like _forever._

“You have a case to work. And I can take care of myself.”

“But...”

“Getting there will take me ten hours top, and once I'm done I can reunite with you two, if that'll make you feel better.” They shared a look, and I realized I sounded like I was talking to children. “But you can't come with me. I have to do this on my own.”

“We’ll drop you at a bus station, alright?” Dean said, but I knew he hadn't changed his mind. He was probably waiting for me to change _mine_ in the time it'll take us to get there. “And you... Call us. Every hour.”

I nodded, until I realized this wasn't my dad. This was Dean, a dude who had just met me two days ago.

This isn't the concern you show for someone you met two days ago.

Sam seemed to agree with me, but he didn't let it show. I could feel the aura of ' _what the hell, Dean!?’_ emanating from him anyways.

“One call every few hours,” I offered, “and it's not up to discussion.”

“There’s a town a few miles from here. We can spend the night there... Then you go do what you have to do and we go work this case.”

I smiled. Even when Dean must have been really confused about his own behavior, I still found it reassuring. He was my father, one way or another. He'd always have my back.

“Thanks, guys.”

“You're welcome.”

 

_-oOo-_

 

“Check in every _hour_ , Dean?” Mocked Sam, once I was too far away to hear them.

“She saved your life!” Replied the older, defensive, “And now she wants to run off in the middle of the night? That can’t be good.”

Sam smirked, pleased with the reaction. And, even if he knew his brother was right, he looked at the bus station behind them and sighed loudly.

“I think it’s cute you have a crush, that’s a-...”

“What? No!” Sam’s smirk widened, and Dean started the car, in order to distract himself from the weird, disgusted-like feeling in the bottom of his stomach, “It’s not a crush. I just-... Like the girl, that’s all.”

“Uh uh. Yeah.”

Dean was about to accuse _him_ of a crush, but he bit his tongue before he could say anything. _Too soon,_ he realized. Instead, he just rolled his eyes dramatically. No need to put his finger in the wound.

“There's something weird about her, though.”

Dean frowned, but he couldn't deny it.

Besides, _something weird_ didn't cut it. First of all, there was the way she affected them, just by existing. They had barely argued ever since she first showed up, which was pretty impressive by itself, and when she was around he couldn't help but feel relaxed. Why, he had no idea.

But, as if acting as a silent peacemaker wasn't enough, there were all the other details about her.

“You mean the way she looked at the cassettes?”

“For example,” Sam nodded. “Like, I know they're _cassettes_ , but she picked them up-...”

“Like they were antiques,” completed Dean, “Out of a museum or something.”

“And the whole no-sleeping thing?” Added Sam, the smile erasing a little off his face.

“She naps a lot, maybe...”

“Honestly, I don't think she's asleep at those times.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, she's weird. But she still saved your life. I owe her that.” Sam frowned for a second at those words, but he tried not to think about it too much. If anything, Dean wasn't the one in debt. “So, Oklahoma. Man, that's gonna be a boring drive. Do you wanna make a supply run before we leave?”

 


	5. a family makes a bunker a home, but magical weapons are always welcomed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry. sorry. please don't hate me? i hadn't opened the site in forever and hadn't realized people actually gave a shit about this. I promise to keep updates more frecuent.

If you try hard enough, you really can ignore all the details off in _this_ Lebanon.

You’d technically have to avoid looking at anything but the floor- But still.

This felt so bizarre. I recognized some people here and there, store owners, parents from school, and even a few teachers. They were even _younger_ than Dad, which was saying a lot.

The first bus went to Kansas City, and the second one left me in Lebanon, and with no other option than to walk the distance between the city and the bunker.

I walked the road I knew so well careful not to drag attention to myself. It was a weird sensation, being in a place so familiar and so far from home at the same time.

Deciding that it wasn't weird _enough,_  I took my brand new, time appropriate phone and dialed Dean's number.

“What's up?”

“Just checking in,” I replied, “I had a free moment and I thought of giving you peace of mind.”

Dean replied after a small laugh.

“So considerate.” 

“How's the case going?”

“We located the witness, we're headed there to see what he knows.”

I knew that. I had memorized the journal entry about this case, and planned on keeping tabs of every move the guys made, to make sure everything happened like it was supposed to.

“Good luck then. Listen, I'm gonna go. Take care, alright? I'll call you in a few hours.”

“Yeah, you too. Bye.”

“Bye.”

I hanged up, just to see everything around me become increasingly familiar. I picked up the pace, shoving the cell phone in my bag carelessly. I was getting close.

When I saw the entrance, I laughed, just from happiness. 

It was so weird to see this place completely empty except for the bunker door, it made me feel both unwelcomed and at home.

I was tempted to go for the door, but I knew it was useless. Instead, I looked around. Nothing seemed too out of place, so I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

Something was buried under one of the trees. Something that was covered in grace.

I ran towards the forest, just to realize that a bush had grown on top of the source of the grace.

I tore it out with my bare hands. I could put it back later, but my mind wasn't really concerned about it.

The hole in where the bush had been wasn't deep enough, so using more magic than strictly necessary, I dug until my hands encountered something hard.

Once I finally had it out of the ground, I could appreciate it. A chest, with worn out sigils all over it, and a small inscription that only said 'M.W’.

Found it.

 

_-oOo-_

 

Opening it had been interesting. After struggling with the non-existent lock, I decided to use grace, but before I could use it to force it open, it unlocked.

The chest had recognized my grace? Impressive.

The first thing to catch my eye inside the chest was an envelope, neatly put on top of everything else. I took it, gave a quick look inside the chest, and then opened it.

The only thing inside the envelope a letter addressed to me. Skipping everything, I looked for the signature. ‘Always proud of you, Seraphiel’. 

Aunt Sera. My eyes traveled through the text frantically. 

 

_'Mel:_

_If you're reading this, it means that you got our message... When you projected, you left a track of grace...’_

 

Of course. Of course! I didn't remember, but they could track my grace. Good.

 

 _'I tried to jump_ _there, but there was something blocking me. We all tried and we all failed. We assume that it is also blocking you from coming back...’_

 

So it's not just me? Oh, shit. 

 

 _‘I've taken some precautions. The timeline you are is no longer connected to us... Your actions will not affect our present, but they will affect the future of the reality you are in, so you still have to be careful... If you go after your father, you can be honest with him. To a_ _rational degree _ _.’_

 

_'This also means that, in the unlikely case that you die while you're there, we won't be able to bring you back.’_

 

Oh, wow. 

I've never been afraid of death. Being a nephilim, and the daughter of an archangel nothing less, somebody killing me is more than just _unlikely._  We still don't know how to kill a nephilim without stealing their grace. And, even if someone managed to do it, I knew it wouldn't last. Half of my family is capable of bringing people back from the dead. 

Billie is not really happy about that, sure, but since she started dating Grandma Rowena, she has let most stuff slide. 

Dying, and staying dead, hadn't really seemed like an option before this moment. And God, it's paralyzing.

I had to remind myself that people can't tell what I am. With hunters, even if they can tell I'm not human, they'll never be able to figure out _what_ I am. 

And angels, even if they could decipher it with proper evidence, will never be able to sense me unless I use my powers. And as long as people think I'm human, they will never be able to kill me.

I will be fine.

 

_‘It would help our research if you could tell us what happened when you left...’_

 

There's nothing I can do to stop the frown to form on my face. _What?_ _Did something happen to Theo?_ _She was there when it happened._ A thought hit me suddenly, and an awful cold sweat traveled down my spine at the idea. 

_What if Theo had been sent through time too?_

That idea triggered a wave of guilt like no other I've felt before. Fucking shit up and messing up my life? All cool. Shipping my sister off in time all by herself, after convincing her that it would all work out? I don't know if I'll be able to forgive myself if something happens to her. 

And Theo -witch or not- is human, so they couldn't have found her- But Sera would have mentioned it. She definitely would. Not only that, but if Theo was gone too, they'd assume we're together.

So, she's fine. She has to be.

 

_‘To contact us, you can leave letters outside the bunker (I don't know if you remember this, but the key is lost) or in the Impala, and once you do the response should take a few seconds to arrive. Jack and Cas are working on an easier way to communicate, but for now, that's all we've got.’_

 

I smiled when my eyes saw Jack's name. Sending letters sounds annoying and unpractical, but I'll take it over being uncommunicated any day.

 

_‘I promise you, we will find a way to bring you back. And whoever did this is going to be really fucking sorry. We can't wait to see you again._

 

_Always proud of you,_

_Seraphiel.”_

 

I teared up a little, I won't lie.

 _If my fathers were here,_  I can't help to think. But they're not. I'm alone.

I've never realized how much I take my family for granted before now. How much I actually rely on them. How much I need them.

When I get back, I'm gonna be better, because that's what they deserve. I'll make sure they know how much I appreciate them. 

I give my word, this is the last stupid mistake I make. 

My eyes go through the bits of text I skipped, and they settle on the last paragraph again. _Always proud of you._  Even if it was minimal, it made me feel better.

I sighed, letting my worries go to a second plane. I put the letter in my sketchbook, and instead focused on the rest of the contents of the chest.

Inside there was a backpack I recalled belonged to M.J and a black duffel bag. I reached for the duffel first.

When I checked inside, I could tell Dean had packed it. The first thing that drew my eye was the archangel blade, probably Castiel's. I hope they won't need it back home. If I fuck up here, God knows they might. 

The second thing I grabbed was one of the books. What made this book stand out from the others I could see in the bag, was that this one especially was brand new. 

All our books were old, to say the least, not to mention the _cursed demon summoning guide_ vibe they all share, but this one looked like a college textbook.

Turns out I wasn't that far off. The book, called “The 21st Century” and that seemed not to be any less of 800 pages, was a hardcover encyclopedia with extra editor's notes on everything that had happened since the beginning of 2000.

It definitely will come in very handy, I can bet. The other books I had already seen before in the library- A few spellbooks, hunting guides and an address book, filled with somewhat familiar names. There was also a copy of the journal, one of the duplicates we made just in case, with a bunch of clear additions done recently. Under, a bunch of my clothes and my running shoes. That had been MJ, no doubt. 

A little hidden in one of the corners, a wallet filled with cash. Back home it would last maybe two weeks, but I'm sure I can live off it for a couple of months at least. Stuff is so much cheaper here. 

Filling the rest of the bag, all types of weapons, including _three_ angel blades, ammo, and a bunch of hex packs with their purpose written in black Sharpie. 

It took me longer than I'd like to admit but I realized: That was Theo's handwriting. Which meant that I definitely didn't zap her to who knows where. 

But why didn't she remembered what happened? Maybe she did, but she didn't want to tell them. But why wouldn't she? It didn't make sense.

I closed the duffel bag and took it out of the chest, leaving it on the floor beside me. There was still MJ’s backpack, and two bottles of holy oil. I wished I wouldn't have to use them.

The first and only thing I saw when I opened the backpack was a tangled mess of wires. Once I took them out, I recognized them as my laptop and phone chargers. 

Almost messed up in the middle of them, another letter. I recognized the handwriting of my sister immediately, but before opening it I decided to take a look at the rest of the backpack.

Unlike with the other bag, nothing seemed primordial to my survival. There was a pendrive, a couple of cassettes, a small notebook and a piece of jewelry. When I took it out, I smiled softly. The charm Dad gave me on Christmas. Inside, the family picture I had memorized by now waited for me. I put it around my neck without a second thought. The charm made a metallic sound when it hit my golden pendant, but it didn't bother me. At least, I hope it didn't. 

The cross was my lucky charm since I was twelve, but if I had to choose between the two of them, it didn't stand a chance. Family comes first.

I couldn't carry all of this back to the city, so I took all the books and the weapons (except the journal, the encyclopedia and the archangel blade) out of the duffel bag and left them in the chest, besides the holy oil. If I needed them, I could always come to pick them up later. 

After a second thought, I took with me a gun and one of the regular angel blades too. Just in case. 

I left the original journal back in the chest, and after putting everything MJ sent in the bag, I left the empty backpack too. 

I had to answer them, but I didn't know where to begin.

 _I'm sorry,_ I wrote in the journal I was leaving here, _for all this mess. I'm fine and safe, but I can't teleport back no matter how hard I try. I found Dad and Uncle Sam, but not on purpose. They're the ones that found me. Dean, Cas, I should have listened to you both of you. Like always, you were right. I hope you can forgive me._

_I don't know what can I tell you that Theo hasn't already. Things were going fine until she sneezed. I don't know if being stuck has something to do with it or not. Things here seem right. I haven't seen anyone weird or out of place (besides me, of course) but keep in mind I could be missing something. There's a lot I don't understand yet._

_My next letter will be more informative, I promise. Now I'm going to Lawrence to intercept Dad and Uncle Sam, and hopefully talk to Missouri. She might know something that'll throw some light into this._

_Thank you all for having my back. I don't know what I'd do without you._

_-M. Winchester_

_March, 2006_

 

I put the journal on top of everything else and closed the chest slowly. Once I did it, the handle disappeared, and it locked down again. I tried to open it, and I couldn't.

_Okay, once I get back someone's gonna have to tell me what the hell is up with this magic._

I buried the chest again, and planted the bush a few feet away. The grace was going to make a new one grow, that's for sure, but moving a bush is easier than moving a grown ass tree.

When I went to carve the hiding sigils I could remember in the nearby trees, I found they were already marked.

Just in case, I carved new ones. Better safe than sorry, I guess. 

With my own messenger bag inside the duffel, I headed to the main highway. 

The path was a little longer, but I had more chances of finding a ride.

My legs got sore pretty quickly this time, probably resenting the consistent effort I was making. Normally, I'd teleport and use grace to unbury the chest, but since now I was _way_ too close to being human, those options were completely ruled out.

I had never felt superior to them before, but now I had a shitton of newfound respect for them.

Doing everything manually? Every day? No way. Humans are fucking badass. 

A car passed beside me, pulling me out my thoughts. The driver ignored me, probably because I didn't raise my thumb on time. Or maybe they were a jerk. Who knows.

A truck pulled over a few minutes later. A blonde woman was driving it.

“Where you headed?” She asked, turning off the radio. She seemed over forty, maybe a little less if the years had been rough on her. Judging by the state of the red truck, they probably were.

“Lebanon,” I replied, “car broke down a few miles behind. My fiance is waiting there.”

Convinced, the woman nodded.

“Hop in, then. You can use my phone.” She reached out and unlocked the door from inside, and I got inside the truck with a smile on my face. “Do you know who you're calling or you need a mechanic’s number?”

“Jack already called,” I lied. I tried real hard not to overthink the choice of name for my fake lover. “I just have something to do, and I can't be late.”

“Busy woman, uh? Do you want me to drop you somewhere?” 

_It's nothing, really. You just needed a name, it's normal that you came up with that one._

“Bus station- If it's not too far from your destination, of course.”

_You've been friends since ever. It doesn't mean anything._

“You're leaving town?”

_Except it totally does. No it doesn't._

“Yeah. Visiting Mom outta state. Poor woman broke her wrist, needs someone to take care of her.”

_You have the biggest crush ever._

_I don't, he's technically my cousin._

_He's_ almost _your cousin, but technically he's not._

_Doesn't matter anyway, he doesn't like me like that, so shut up._

“Good thing she has you, then.”

I chuckled. She turned the radio on, not taking her eyes off the road.

“Name's Kate, by the way.”

“Melissa,” I said, over the noise of an old country song, “Pleasure to meet you.”

 _Doesn't he? I mean, he_ did _get pretty jealous with Dylan..._

_Cause he looks out for me, and he was worried Dylan would break my heart. Doesn't mean anything._

_Maybe. But you want it to mean_ something, _right?_

We got to the city after a couple of minutes where the only noise was the radio and my inner argument.

It was ridiculous, yes, and I was only going to end up hurting, yes, but I was going to walk right into the suffering with open arms.

Jack was born as an adult. When Dad and Uncle Sam stopped aging, he did too, until he reached the age he looked like. 

He didn't change at all during all my childhood and adolescence, but that didn't stop him from becoming my best friend. He and Theo are the same age, and when she turned twenty-two, so did he, and we celebrated that birthday as if it were the first.

When I entered kindergarten and started talking about boys (and girls too, for that matter) Dad asked me if I liked Jack.

“‘Course I do. He's nice, and he smells like watermelon.”

“Yeah but, do you like him like you like Jeremy at school?” 

Jeremy was a grade above mine, and he had black hair like Daddy's and he always shared his toys with me, and sometimes his mom would make brownies and he'd always save one for me. I liked Jeremy a lot.

“No,” I replied, after thinking it for a moment, “I like Jack more than I like Jeremy.”

Dad didn't mention that conversation or Jeremy again. Neither did I. 

Soon after, I asked Cas who was Jack to me, and he explained that Jack's dad was an angel, _just like yours,_ he said, and all angels were like siblings. _So he's my cousin,_  I asked. _If that's how to see him, yes,_ he replied, _his mom wanted me to raise him like a son and that's how I see him. But human rules don't apply to angelic beings, Melissa. You'll get it when you get older._

I “got it” when I started studying Heaven, at age six. Angels weren't siblings, because that was a human thing and angels preceded humanity. But it also was the closest thing to the kind of relationship they had, so nobody bothered to make a differentiation. 

I heard years later the story of Hanna and Castiel, and it may have given me a little peace of mind for a while, until I remembered Dad's face when I choose Jack over Jeremy and the feeling of _bad, dirty, wrong, wrong, wrong,_ came back as if it had never left. 

I did some research and I read some book on the matter, and they all agreed in something: it was normal to have a crush on a cousin at that age, and it was going to go away soon.

I had been waiting for years now for it to go away.

“Bus station is that way. Go straight ahead, you can't get lost.”

“Thank you so much, Kate.” I smiled, opening the door. “See you later, I hope.”

“Yeah, see ya. Take care of your mom, alright?”

“Of course, ma'am. Have a good one.”

I shook Jack out of my head and started walking towards the bus station. 

Lebanon looked different from what I remembered, but I tried to ignore it. Instead, I took out my phone and dialed Dean's number. I let it ring once and then hung up.

As expected, a few seconds later he called me back.

“Hey, can you talk right now?”

“Yeah, what's up?”

“Nothing, just checking in. How's the case going?”

“Uh, slow. Can't lie, it's pretty weird even for us. What about you? Did you find what you were looking for?”

I eyed the bag on my shoulder.

“Yeah. I'm done here.”

“Already? What are you gonna do now?”

“I'll probably take a shower and a nap. If you're still in Oklahoma by the time I'm done, I could head over there.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great. If we finish first we'll meet somewhere else.”

“Deal. I gotta go now, stay safe, okay? See you later.”

“See ya.”

I kept walking once I got to the bus station. One block further is the most decent motel in town- at least, it _will_ be.


	6. a comprehensive guide to kidnapping demons for beginners

I woke up a couple of hours later to the displeasing sensation of warm, wet hair. It hadn't fully dried for some reason, so I tied it in a low ponytail and decided to deal with that mess later.

I had told Dean I’d meet with them now, but I was still at square one in the “getting home” game, and I could use some time away from the brothers.

Finding demons wasn't as easy as I remembered. I mean, it's not my field of expertise- normally, they find  _ me. _ But now they don't even know I exist, which is a wild concept for someone born into the Winchester family. 

So I brushed my hair, grabbed the angel blade and headed out the door, whistling peacefully. 

There was a crossroads not too far from where I was. I ate the four mints remaining on the pack while I walked. The box would fit a picture perfectly.

 

_-o0o-_

 

“I swear I don't know anything!”

“Bullshit,” I spat, “You can repeat that all you want, but I'm not buying it.” The demon's eyes widened, and she tried again to get away. The handcuffs didn't let her, of course. “The only way out of this for you is to tell me what I want to know, now, and then I'll kill you fast.”

“How is that good for me!?” She screamed, exasperated.

“The other option is,  _ I make you talk _ , and then I call some of your friends and let them know you betrayed them.” Her mouth gaped open when she realized what that meant. She was a crossroads demon, no one unreplaceable, and demons are not known for their compassion. If they found an opportunity to shove her ass in front of a train, they would take it. “Even if I  _ can't _ make you talk, I'll say you did and then I'll just follow them when they go talk to your boss. I still win.”

After the shock passed, that demon laughed, with a frown of confusion on her beautiful features. 

“ _ Who _ are you, kid?” She questioned, almost impressed. “You're good, I'll give you that, but you're not as smart as you think you are. Why are you looking for trouble?”

I sighed before plunging the angel blade on her thigh, this time closer to the knee.

“Argh! Bitch!” She shouted in pain. Her eyes shifted to black, psychotic rage in her voice as she hissed, “When I get out of here I'll make a coat out of your skin.”

“ _ Yeah _ ... You won't do either, though,” I smiled, shaking the blade inside her leg before taking it out. “You say you don't know where Azazel is, I believe that. But you know where  _ someone _ is. And I need you to tell me, because this is getting boring.”

The demon kept quiet, glaring at me like she was expecting me to blow up or something. 

I turned to my bag, resting on the floor of the house. Lucky me, there was a house for sale outside the city, with no one close enough to hear the screaming. “I’m very impatient, y'know? It's one of my flaws. I like things to be finished as fast as possible. This whole thing, for example, it's getting annoyingly long...”

“Oh, shut up! Are you going to give me a scary speech, and then  _ what _ ? I'll tell you all I know? Seriously?”

“Actually, speech is plan A.” The smirk was erased from her face when I stood up again, a bag of salt on my hands. “Plan B is way more efficient.”

 

_-oOo-_

 

“Ugh!” I kicked the body out of the chair, but it was still tied to it and the whole thing went down. “Oh, come on!”

Three demons had I captured and questioned, with absolutely no results.

I mean, I got a few names, a few addresses and whatnot, but no one big enough: All the names were from black eyed demons. No one who could pull this off, that means.

So, as far as I was concerned, this whole thing had been useless.

What was bothering me the most, was the fact that I could not save a single one of the possession victims. They all had been dead since they got here.

My phone started to ring, and I was greeted by Dean's name on the screen. 

“Hey, how you doing?”

“Hey, Mel,” said Sam.

They were on speaker, so I assumed Dean must have been driving.

“Dean, Sam, hey! What are you doing up so late?”

“ _ Late _ ?” Sam asked, confused. “It's seven a.m...” He informed, and I nearly choked. “Are you alright?”

I grimaced at the streaks of blood on my clothes. And my hands. Oh, God, don't let it be on my hair too. I can't clean that shit off my hair before I get to my room.

“Yeah, I'm fine. I got caught up on something, I didn't even realize the time...”

A silence let me know they were communicating quietly with each other.

“Do you need a hand?” Asked Dean, cautiously.

“No, no, I got this. It's just... Remember that message I told you about?” They hummed in agreement. “Well, things got complicated. Where are you now?”

“Leaving Oklahoma to never return,” declared Dean. I chuckled, and I heard him smile through the phone. “We are going to take a few days to find a new case, you think you can make it?”

I looked around. Three corpses. 

Fucking demons. 

Fucking...  _ Everything. _

“Yeah, absolutely.” You know what? Fuck it. I'm summoning someone who can actually tell me something I don't know. Who cares if that drags attention to me. I want to go home, and  _ now _ . “I should have this worked out in a few hours. I'll call you, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“How did the case go?”

“Good,” replied Sam, after a few seconds of hesitation, “hopefully there won't be any more victims.”

“Hopefully?” I repeated. I was going to continue asking (I already knew everything, but they didn't need to know that) when a noise came from the first floor. “Uh, listen, I gotta go. I-”

“Is everything okay? Melissa?”

“Yeah, yeah, don't worry. It's probably that cat again...” I muttered, pretending to talk to myself. There was no cat. But if they worry too much, they might come looking for me. “I'll call you once I'm done here, then?”

“Yeah, uh...” Dean swallowed, before adding, “Are you sure you don't need a hand? We could-”

“Listen, if this gets too much for me to handle on my own, I'll let you guys know. If I can't talk, I'll use a code word, like...” I can't use the ones dad taught me, since they're probably using them already, and that'd be too much of a coincidence.  _ Think, think...  _ “I got it. If I get in trouble, I'll call you 'Dee’ and 'Sammy’. Okay?”

“Alright, got it.”

“Take care, okay?” Asked Sam.

“Sure thing. You too. Talk to you in a few hours.”

“Yeah, bye.”

I hung up, hearing what are clearly footsteps beneath me. I wonder if it's a demon looking for their friends, or something else. 

Probably the first option, though. What are the odds of someone else coming here?

Feeling suddenly grateful for the hiding spells I had on -you know, the ones keep me from lighting up like a fucking Christmas tree in the eyes of demons-, I grabbed my bag and hid inside the walk-in closet. 

A few minutes passed before I saw someone, a man, come inside. 

When he saw the bloodbath inside, his nose scrunched.

“Fucking idiots.”

He pulled out what seemed like a phone and dialed. I tried to hear who he was talking with, but it was useless. I couldn't spend any grace. 

“Yeah, I found them.” A silence followed. “They're dead. Whoever did this knew what-... No, it's not just the meatsuits... Yes, I'm sure! I wouldn't tell you if I weren't sure. This wasn't an exorcism... I don't know. I haven't found anyone in the house... In Kansas... Yeah, I know... Wait, what!?... Ugh, no, I'll do it. When is she..? ...Alright. Yeah, whatever.”

The demon shoved the phone in his pocket, annoyed. 

He was about to leave the bedroom, until he saw the closet. 

Where I was hidden.

Crap.

His eyes narrowed and he started walking towards the door, cautiously.

I prepared for a fight-  _ Am I really asking for that much? Very nice, grandpa. I'll remember this. _

“Brad?”

His name is... _Brad?_ _Seriously!?_

“Up here,” he called, forgetting about the closet, and conveniently saving my ass. 

_ Very _ conveniently. I narrowed my eyes for a second. Chuck, maybe? Who knows. 

The demon left the room and walked down the hallway towards the stairs. Holding on to my bag, I opened the door as slow as it was humanly possible, and tiptoed after him.

“Move your ass, the boss is on her way.”

“Already!?” Shouted Brad, before sprinting down the stairs. “But I don't have a clue about what happened!"

“Are you serious?” The other voice belonged to an older man, deep and tired. “Then what are you waiting for? Did you look around the house?”

Oh crap. That's not good. 

I left the room and instead, entered the bathroom. Looking around, an idea came to me. The most stupid and overused idea possible, but still: An idea.

I grabbed the bar of soap from the shower and one of the porcelain decorations on the sink, and opened the window. The forest started a few feet away from the backyard.

_ Good enough _ , I decided, and threw the soap towards a bush in the border of the house.

It barely made any noise, but one of the demons noticed it.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

Next I threw the decoration. It was a dolphin, and I couldn't help to think that Johnny would have loved it. This time, the porcelain crashed and both of them ran outside the house. As soon as I heard the back door slamming close, I jumped down the stairs as fast as I could and ran to the front of the house. 

My car was hidden down the road, and it didn't take me too long to find. 

I only checked my appearance after I was far enough from the house, and I couldn't help to growl: I was splattered with blood from head to toe- hair included.

Ugh.

 

_-oOo-_

 

It was past ten by the time I could start with the summoning spell. I wasn't sure what was I going to do, but I didn't really had the time to sit and reflect. I knew I had to, but I just couldn’t bring myself to care. I was becoming increasingly freaked out by this town, and these people, and this world in general. I needed to get home, ASAP.

Once I finished reciting, a woman stood in front of me, entertained. She looked me up and down, examined the demon trap on the floor, and then smirked, as a frown settled on her face.

“Well, hello there, honey,” she greeted, “care to explain the meaning of this?”

I looked at her, as unimpressed as I could. Simple dress, light skin, black hair and basic makeup. Not a single defining trait.

“Did I mess up somewhere? I'm supposed to be meeting someone  _ important. _ ”

If that bothered her, she didn't let it show. Ego is not the way to go, then.

“Am I wrong to assume you're the one who killed my demons?”

“You assume correctly.”

“ _ Why _ , can I ask?”

I noticed how she started to pace inside the paint, searching for weaknesses in the structure of both the trap and the building.

“They weren't useful,” I stated simply. My coldness seemed to get her interest, since she squinted her eyes at me and stared, expecting me to fill the silence. I didn't.

“And so you summoned me,” she guessed.

“Exactly. Are we doing this the easy way or the hard way?”

She looked at me, took a deep breath and started to laugh.  _ Loudly _ .

“You have a pair on you, kid!” She managed to say between the laughs, “I almost feel bad about having to kill you.”

I raised my eyebrows, not bothering in disguising the gesture. 

“And how, exactly, are you planning on doing that?”

My confidence seemed to make her doubt, but she stood her ground. 

“Did you really thought this little demon trap could hold me?” She asked, exaggerated pity on her voice.

Imitating the tone, I smirked.

“Who says  _ that _ is the trap that's holding you?”

She frowned. Her eyes followed mine to the ceiling, where a much more intricate design had been drawn in brown paint- barely noticeable unless you knew where to look.

She walked out of the demon trap effortlessly, but when she tried to step out of the one on top of her, she ran into an invisible wall.

“You bitch! Where did you learn that?”

“Around.” She tried to charge against me again, with no results. “I'm gonna get started now. What's your name?”

“Go to hell,” she growled.

“Been there, done that, bought a t-shirt. I need a name,  _ honey _ ,” I insisted, using her nickname to piss her off.

She narrowed her eyes, comparing her options. 

“My name is Mona.”

“Pleased to meet you. I'm Melissa.” I saw her repeat my name to herself, memorizing it, but I wasn’t worried. What was she going to do? Kill me? “I’m not asking for much, you know? I just want to know what's up with the whole Azazel deal.”

She frowned and took a step back. “How do you know about that?”

“I know a lot of stuff. Not enough, sadly. But-...”

“Why would I tell you anything?”

I rolled my eyes, taking a deep breath. 

“You don't know anything that I can figure out by myself, alright? Let's clear that up. What I need to know is, how far are you from freeing Lilith?”

“ _ Who _ are you?”

“I just told you, my name's-...”

“I heard that!” She shouted, “But there isn't a  _ single _ human on Earth that knows about that. Who do you work for!?”

“I'm more of a freelancer. So if you could-...”

“And I'm supposed to believe that you just know all of this for fun? Do you think I'm stupid or what?”

_ Jesus fucking Christ _ .

“Of course is not a hobby, for fuck's sake! I need to know what the fuck is up so I can-!”

She opened her eyes, interested.

“So you can  _ what? _ ”

“...Do...  _ What I'm trying to do _ ,” I replied, knowing that she wanted me to be more specific.

She huffed, a victorious smile on her face. She had found a weakness, and she planned on exploiting it as much as she could.

“So you really just work for yourself, uh?”

“Or so I've been trying to tell you,” I replied. “What's next? I'm sure everyone knows his plan by now.”

“Just because you work alone does not mean I'm talking,” She said, matter-of-factly, as a sarcastic grin crept into her face, “Actually, I feel less inclined to talk now that I know you figured all of this out  _ on your own _ .”

God fucking damnit.

I sighed. “Well. I fucking tried.”

In a swift movement, I took a few steps forward as I took out my angel blade and plunged it into her chest, watching as her eyes and mouth shot open in surprise before a yellow flicker exploded in them.

So...  _ that was a fucking waste _ , I thought as I took my blade back from her body.

And I was convinced about that, until the dead body at my feet gasped and started coughing up blood.

“Shit!”  _ The vessel was alive? How could I fucking miss that!? _ “Hold on, okay? Don't talk, you're gonna be okay, I promise.”

I kneeled beside her as her eyes filled with tears. There was blood pouring from the stab wound, and you didn't need to be a doctor to realize she wasn't gonna last much longer.

“I know you're confused and scared, but try to breathe slowly, okay? You're gonna be fine, I promise,” My mind kept murmuring reassurances to her, as if words could possibly help her right now. 

Help her. A question popped up in my mind:

Do I have enough grace to heal her?


End file.
